


Street Fighting Man

by gryffindorJ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Rimming, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, spag bol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape has a very boring job. He assures government efficiency or something overly banal like that. He basically attends lots of boring meetings and fills out paperwork that, if possible, is more boring than the meetings. That's what everyone believes. Everyone but Harry, that is. Despite everyone from the Minister to Ron telling Harry to leave it alone, he can't. Something keeps telling him he's right about Severus this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Street Fighting Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torino10154](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/gifts).



He was dying. That had to be it. But he'd always expected dying to be a lot more painful. Once, many years ago, he'd had a stomach ailment that required surgery and that had been the worst pain he could ever remember. He'd been sure then he was dying, but now that he was he realized how very wrong he'd been.

His throat felt thick, choked with something. He coughed reflexively, and mother of God, now that hurt. He felt something warm dribble out of the corner of his mouth but he couldn't get his hand to move and wipe it away.

He shouldn't have had so much to drink. It impaired his judgement, slowed him down. Less wine, then, and perhaps he wouldn't be here now.

The side of his face felt warm and wet. Why was that? Had he been shot in the head? No, he hadn't been shot at all, he thought. He couldn't remember. He did remember a loud clatter and the breaking of glass. Was there a gunshot, though? Just because he hadn't heard it didn't mean there hadn't been one. If he was killed, assassinated, then the person who did it would have a silencer. Unless they were some government radical who didn't care if they got caught and thus died for "the cause." Whatever fucking cause that was.

His head. That was it. He'd hit his head on the desk. He'd been standing behind his desk and suddenly he couldn't stand anymore and as he fell he'd hit his head. That had to be why he was bleeding. Was it enough of a head wound to kill him? Or would the other thing kill him first?

The door opened; he heard it, as quiet as the door was, he heard it. Heard the footsteps across the plush carpet. All things that were normally impossible to hear, but maybe now with the clarity of death coming he could hear them. That clarity also assured him that this person was not here to save him.

He heard the shoes crunch across the broken crystal. The person halted. His shoes came into view. They were nice shoes; he had a pair similar. Italian leather, with a leather sole, hand stitched. These did not have the intricate leather work across the top, like his own. They were basic black and polished perfectly. Still, a very nice pair. Not the shoes of some radical.

The person kneeled down. He couldn't see him clearly, knew the man was examining him. Felt the warm, sure fingers on his throat, checking his pulse. He felt the slight sting as the man touched near his head wound. Then the fingers were near his eyes, pulling them wide to check them. He could see his eyes looking right into his own. He didn't really see the eyes, though; he saw the eyes of his mother. A very weird thing to see at a moment like this but he supposed this is what happened when one died – you saw things that weren't really there.

The man made a noise of derision through his nose then stood. He watched the man in fine shoes and fine trousers walk away. He coughed again. He didn't want to because it hurt so badly, but he couldn't help it.

He felt warm; finally death was coming, he hoped. What would he see on the other side? He did not know what he wanted or deserved. Certainly he had earned his death. His last breath escaped him and he once again thought of his mother.

~*~

Everyone had something they hated about their job. It wasn't called 'work' because it was actually fun playtime. This right now, though, was what Harry hated _most_ about his job. Playing politics, and even worse, playing Muggle politics.

Harry, as everyone would well know, didn't have a wizarding superiority complex or anything like that, and a politician is a politician. Age, race, creed, belief, party, magic or not; all politicians were the same. What Harry hated was the propensity of Muggle men of business to play golf. Harry, being the competitive sort, liked the idea of a game in general, but the fact he wasn't very good, but was often forced to play, irritated him.

The only saving grace for golf was that one was allowed, almost encouraged, to drink while playing. Having a bottle of beer in hand would lessen the sting when Harold Wainwright-Smith, undersecretary of some fucking official Harry could never remember, brought up Harry's 'short game' needing work for the eightieth time. Wainwright-Smith was not here today, though, and there was no actual golf being played today either.

It had started raining, thank Christ, to such a degree that their tee-time got washed out. Harry and William Wiggens, his contact from the Travel Appropriations department, had been forced to the driving range, something Harry loved because when it came to knocking the hell out of a golf ball he was very good. Even though there was no golf being played, one could still drink.

While Wiggens took pathetic swing after pathetic swing, Harry walked to the bar and ordered himself a lager. He turned and leaned against the bar and watched Wiggens while he took a slow pull from his bottle.

Wiggens was a bit of a blowhard, know-it-all type, and he sweated buckets constantly, but he was also a fount of information. Harry could put up with a hell of a lot when that was the case. Given that, Wiggens wasn't so bad. He worked in what outsiders, especially wizards, would consider a throwaway position, but Harry knew better.

Every single deployed British attaché needed his signature before they went anywhere. He was the wallet of travel, and if you worked for the government in a foreign location, and were going anywhere, you needed his say so. Otherwise you were paying for it out of your own pocket. Carefully piecing together what he said, Harry could trace every British national abroad who was of interest to him.

The golf course employee arrived with Harry's fresh bucket of balls, and put it by the tee Harry was using. Harry walked back over to his tee and pulled out his driver, the only club he knew the name of.

Harry teed up a ball, stood and took his usual mighty swing at it. With a whoosh and a crack the ball flew long and straight. Harry smiled to himself; so much better than trying to get out of a bleeding sand trap.

"Fuck!" Harry heard Wiggens curse as he took a very poor swing, and the ball went maybe two meters. "I'm crap, I have no idea why I even try," Wiggens said, turning around towards Harry and giving him a sweaty faced smile.

"Because it gets you out of the office but you're still technically working. Which also means you don't have to pay for the three glasses of white wine you'll have," Harry said, teeing up another ball.

"Right, thank you for reminding me." Wiggens huffed after Harry made another brilliant hit but said, "Being here beats being in that stuffy warren any day."

"Of course," Harry said, saying as little as possible because he could feel it coming. Like the heaviness before a massive rainstorm. Wiggens was about to whinge expansively about his job, an act that always led to Harry getting bucket loads of information.

"That prick – you remember I told you about him? We call him 'Hoover'. He's the one sent around to different posts because he cleans up messes really well. Fucking called me this morning demanding his travel reimbursement." 

Harry put his club against the ground and leaned on it. He knew who 'Hoover' was, of course, more than Wiggens did. This, though, was why he had asked Wiggens to come play golf today; he needed one last piece of information to be sure.

"He's such a fucking prick. I can hear him sneering at me over the phone. I didn't even know that was possible. And he talks down to me like some schoolmaster who thinks I'll never amount to anything. He always pops up in places unexpected then calls me wanting to arrange hotels or flats on the fly. Like I'm his sodding wife."

"Where'd he show up this time?" Harry asked casually, though a sudden knot had gathered in his stomach.

"Belgium. Prick. He was supposed to be there three weeks ago and now he appears out of the blue like some sodding magician." Wiggens put a ball on his tee and slammed his club into it. The ball flew wonderfully straight for a good long time.

Harry leaned down, readied his own ball and took a swing.

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Wiggens said, and Harry looked around, not sure what had happened. Wiggens walked over to him, then knelt down and picked something up. "You destroyed your tee."

"That happens," Harry said, thinking of the flimsy wooden bits.

"Not like this." Wiggens held up his hand, and a small pile of dust and singed splinters sat in it. "It looks like it's been struck by lightning."

Harry smiled wryly. Of course it did.

***

"Ron!" Harry said excitedly as he slid past Ron's door. He grabbed the frame to keep himself from falling over. He pulled himself upright but again slipped and had to right himself by grabbing both sides of the doorframe.

Ron looked up from his desk and snorted a laugh. Harry smiled back sheepishly and then took a careful step to a chair facing Ron. Right before he sat he slipped again but he was saved by falling into the chair.

"Ever think about taking those ridiculous things off before coming back?" Ron said, looking at his shoes.

"In too much of a rush," Harry said, pulling off his golf shoes and tossing them in a corner. Stupid pretentious fucking shoes. Who needed spikes to play fucking golf? For football Harry understood the special shoes, but for golf, never. Yet another reason to hate the whole "sport".

"What happened?" Ron said, putting down his quill and leaning back in his chair.

"Severus is in Brussels," Harry said, not even bothering to suppress excitement.

"Bloody good for him, hope he enjoys all the French people."

"No, I'm serious. This is it – this is the break in the case I've been looking for." Ron rolled his eyes expansively but didn't say anything and let Harry continue on. Years of being with Hermione had trained Ron well in this regard. "Amra is staying there because his son is standing trial at The Hague. He –"

"The Hague?" Ron said, wrinkling his face. "I will never understand Muggle names."

"It's Dutch and yes. Amra fits the exact profile of the sort of person who's in the way. He was just at a summit and he fucked Australia over. I can name fifteen different countries who are upset about it."

"So what, all fifteen countries sent Snape to Belgium to...what? Make sure he chokes on a mussel?"

"No, yes, I don't know!" Harry said, getting flustered and annoyed by Ron's clear scepticism. Ron had never, ever, not for one second, thought Harry was on the right track when it came to this case.

"Harry," Ron said, putting up a hand. "Snape is not an international assassin for hire who parades as a Muggle embassy official by day. He's an appointed Ministry official who keeps tabs on the British government in other countries. He sits through loads of tedious meetings and attends shitty cocktail parties. The most exciting part of his day is updating his diary. He has a job so intricate, boring, and stuck-up the only other person on the planet who would enjoy it is Percy."

Harry huffed and slumped in his chair. Ron had seen all of Harry's evidence, knew everything he knew, but still Ron could not see what Harry thought was so very clear. "It's him. I know it is."

"How can you tell? No one's died of poisoning."

"Jones did."

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Buying some bad Muggle drugs is not poisoning."

"Then how come he and the prostitute both shot up with the same thing and he died and she sold her story to _The Sun_?"

"Bad. Luck."

"I don't care what you say, I'm going. I'm going to Brussels, I know it's him, I'm going to arrest him and then another case solved and closed for me," Harry said smugly.

"Right, and who exactly are you going to hand him over to? The Muggle United Nations thingy? International Confederacy of Wizards? Muggle government? The Ministry? You do know these are all groups who could have possibly hired him."

"Not all and I don't think he's been hired by any magical government. He doesn't fit the profile."

"Exactly. He didn't use magic to kill any of the people you suspect him of killing."

"Yes, he did," Harry said, sitting straight in his chair.

"He didn't, Harry. I went to five crime scenes with you and nothing. There's hardly anything that connects the deaths and three of them were put down to natural causes," Ron said, his face growing red. His patience with Harry was fading quickly.

"It's him, Ron, I know it is. I can't put my finger on it but I know it's him. I'll be buggered if magic isn't involved and killing Muggles using magic breaks so many laws it will take a month to read all the charges against him."

Ron bit his lower lip, looked down, and drummed his fingers nervously on the arms of his chair. Harry groaned in annoyance and barked, "What?"

Ron looked up and gave him a very pained expression, then said, "Look. I don't understand what happened between you and Snape. You're friends, then you're not, then he got his shitty Ministry job and left. Three years later you're determined he's an international murderer and spend the next two trying to prove it. Is this personal? You seem to be grasping at the tiniest nothings for this case."

"It's not personal," Harry said flatly. "The case was given to me. That Muggle who died in Italy was a victim of a planned and well executed assassination. You know that. His death is linked to the witch that died at the Quidditch meeting and with all these others I found. I know it and if I can't prove that I'll prove her murder at least."

Ron sighed, resigned, and Harry was grateful. He was tired of arguing this. "Er…so what's your plan? It's Snape we're talking about here. If he could hide things from You-Know-Who, surely everyone else would be a piece of cake for him," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry smirked. "Voldemort didn't used to sleep with him, though." Ron winced spectacularly, Harry hadn't ever exactly mentioned that about him and Severus. "I think I know him a bit better. Think I'll show up on his doorstep."

"Brilliant," Ron said, dropping his head into his hands. "Out of curiosity, am I still listed as your emergency contact?"

"Yeah, I think so. I never changed it from the first time I filled it out. Why?" Harry said, standing and stretching.

"Can you change it to Hermione? Looking at dead bodies always puts me off my dinner."

***

Harry could hear Severus coming. Not actually hear him because everyone knew Severus was the kind of person to sneak up on you. What Harry heard, though, was the sudden hush that fell through the outer office. Here only a week and everyone was scared senseless already. Harry smiled because he did love that some things never changed.

Harry crossed his legs and sat up a little straighter. The more composed he looked the more it would upset Severus. The door clicked open and no amount of preparation or composure could prepare Harry for seeing Severus after so long. His hair was very short, the shortest Harry had ever seen it. It was clipped so close he must need to have it trimmed every other week, an act that would drive him mad.

He wore the perfect trim suit of a Muggle diplomat. It was dark blue and had three buttons, and showed off his still lean torso. Severus' head turned towards Harry, his eyes widened, and his mouth flattened.

What Harry wouldn't have given in that moment to receive even the smallest bit of pleasure in Severus' expression. Harry was not a fool, though. Severus' delight was far out of his grasp now.

They looked at each other silently before Severus turned, went back out the door and yelled, "Pound? Pound, where are you?"

"She's stepped away, sir," Harry heard a woman say.

"You tell her when she gets back she is to report to me, immediately," Snape said in a menacing tone.

"Yes, sir," the woman said back, her voice sounding weak.

Severus walked back in and slammed the door behind him, causing some of the items hanging on the walls to rattle. He strode to his desk, then sat, pulled out his reading glasses, and picked up a file as if Harry weren't even there.

Not about to push things, Harry occupied himself looking around the room. There were not one, but two sets of armour, the likes of which Harry had never seen before. There were sets of axes, maces, and clubs adorning the walls. All were displayed with loving, precise affection. There were rows of knives, each one with a differently shaped blade: curved, jagged, hooked; it was all there. Harry's insides squirmed uncomfortably as he thought about how badly any one of those would hurt when used.

Harry had just turned to look at a crossbow when the door opened and in walked Severus' secretary. She was a smartly dressed, proper English lady. Everything from her short curled hair to her no-nonsense shoes said efficiency. She was also quite nice. Harry had liked her almost immediately.

She bustled over towards Harry carrying a tea tray that was so loaded it would have done Mrs. Weasley proud. Harry had to suppress his reflex to take out his wand and help her. She placed the tray on the table and looked at Harry, beaming.

"Thank you, this looks all really lovely," Harry said.

"I brought the honey jar, there," she said and pointed at the tray. "Be sure to put some in your tea. You don't want to have an aching throat."

Harry nodded and did his best not to smile; he could feel Severus' irritation radiating to him.

"Pound," Severus drawled and his secretary turned to face him, her smile leaving completely.

"Yes sir?"

"Since we are new to working with one another I think it's important that you know that when I have a visitor, I would like to know before I walk into my office. I was taken unaware by Mr. Potter's presence," Severus said.

"Forgive me, sir. I did not think you would be back so soon. Harry here walked in and the poor dear just got in from London and the cold has already upset his system. His nose was running so I went to fetch some tea. I didn't think you would be upset as he said you are an old friend of the family," Mrs. Pound said. "He's your guest and so I treated him so."

Severus blinked at Mrs. Pound as if she were speaking Greek. Harry bit his lip; he could feel the amount of control Severus was exhibiting to appear perfectly calm. Severus took a long slow breath and said, "Thank you for your hospitality towards Mr. Potter. In the future there is no need to let anyone in my office without my knowledge, old family friend or not. You may go."

Mrs. Pound nodded at Severus, then turned to the door. She gave Harry a smile before closing the door behind her.

Severus put his glasses on his desk and stood. He slipped off his suit jacket and put it over the back of a chair before walking over to the sofa next to the chair Harry sat in. He poured two cups of tea from a pot that was delicately painted with pink English roses. He put sugar into one of the matching cups, and Harry was sure he saw a smirk as he added honey to another. He topped each one off with a bit of milk and handed Harry his cup.

"No sense wasting a good tea tray, especially since I am an old friend to your dear family," Severus said. 

Harry laughed despite himself. "I figured it was better than flashing a badge and demanding to be let in. Charm works wonders."

"I can see that. Biscuit?" Severus said, holding up a plate adorned with different, delicious-looking frosted confections.

"Yes, I'm famished after the long flight," Harry grinned. He'd barely left his house ninety minutes ago. Brussels was two Apparation points away, and with his credentials Harry breezed through customs.

Harry took a bite of the amazing buttery, sugary treat and Severus took the moment to pounce on him. "What are you doing here?" 

Harry swallowed and said, "Working a case." He immediately started coughing as bits of biscuit lodged in his throat. Severus handed up a napkin with a flourish of annoyance as Harry's coughing fit overtook him. He sipped his tea, trying to moisten his parched throat.

"Sorry," Harry croaked.

"Chew your food next time," Severus said.

"Don't ask me questions the moment my mouth is full," Harry snapped back.

They glowered at each other and Harry had the urge to arrest Severus right there and then. It was a lot harder sitting there than Harry had anticipated. Harry didn't have all the evidence he needed – not yet, at least. Everything was circumstantial. He needed one major piece and he could nail Severus for everything. That was going to prove hard in itself. Sitting in his dank broom cupboard of an office and seeing all roads leading the same place, it was easy to dehumanize Severus, understand his cold calculated way, and know he could and would kill. Sitting in Severus' oddly decorated office, having tea with him, made it a lot harder to keep in Harry's mind.

He knew Severus was no monster. He was a man who good naturedly mocked him by a simple act of making him tea. He wasn't warm or friendly but he was exactly who Harry knew him to be. Harry was also still attracted to him to a startling degree. Harry had hoped five years would have made him paunchy, maybe wrinkly, saggy-skinned perhaps, or balding – that would have been nice. No, if anything he looked better than ever. Trim and healthy, with greying hair along his temples that made his face less severe, or maybe that was the shorter hair.

Harry had thought he could walk in there and treat it like any other case, but he was dead wrong. He needed to find something to say fast to end this as soon as possible.

"These are interesting decorations," Harry said, trying to bring the subject to a safe, neutral area.

"You like them?" Severus said.

"They are…interesting," Harry said, not able to come up with any other word.

"Yes, you've said that twice now," Severus said, taking a sip of his tea.

"I mean, I didn't know this was your…taste," Harry said.

"What did you think my office would look like?" Severus asked. He looked genuinely interested in Harry's answer and he arched his brows as Harry tried to formulate an answer.

"Books, I guess," Harry said. "Maybe the skull of an animal or two. Since you're parading as a Muggle, maybe a chemistry set."

"A chemistry set."

"Yeah," Harry said into his teacup. "Can't have a cauldron on hand to brew Veritaserum and Living Death."

"You think I brew truth potions and potential poisons?" Severus said, not sounding one bit amused by Harry's observation. Good, Harry wanted him uncomfortable.

"You don't brew poisons?" Harry said innocently.

"Not lately, but I'm starting to wish I had." 

Harry focused on his tea and biscuits then; he had pushed Severus enough for one afternoon. They finished their tea in absolute silence. Severus put his cup and saucer down with a delicate but firm clink and said, "Thank you for coming by, and good luck with your case. I hope the honey helped your throat."

Harry rose from his seat. "I was thinking perhaps we should have dinner. I don't know where the hell I'm going in this place and you know I had a terrible time with the language courses in Auror training."

"Everyone speaks English. You'll be fine," Severus answered curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

For a moment Harry was going to insist but by the cold look Severus was giving him he wasn't wanted here anymore.

Harry knew dealing with Severus took patience, something Harry lacked. But Harry could be stubborn and insistent. He'd get what he came for.

***

Immediately after the war Harry had stayed at Hogwarts. Within a week of the final battle Harry was the only student left at the school. Everyone else had a home to go to, but Hogwarts was Harry's home so he felt no need to leave. He couldn't go the Burrow, even though he had been asked several times. Harry loved the Weasleys but he felt that by being at the Burrow he would be expected to do something about Ginny. Harry wasn't ready to do or not do anything about that. So he politely declined every offer.

Harry knew Severus, at that time still known to Harry as Snape, was staying at the castle as well. He wouldn't allow anyone to check him into Saint Mungo's, he had insisted to Madam Pomfrey, and he could attend to his own medical needs. Harry had the feeling he wasn't letting Madam Pomfrey do anything, however, and was doing it all himself.

Harry had only seen Severus once since the final battle. He'd still been unconscious, with a blood-soaked bandage around his neck. Like a moth to a flame, though, Harry accidentally on purpose ran into Severus one night in the corridors. They stared at each other for a long moment and then finally Harry said something. The conversation was stilted and frustrating. Turning to go, Harry was sure that was the last he'd ever see of the man when Severus said to him, voice rough, “Potter, I like to take tea every afternoon in the old staff room.” It was as good an invitation as any so Harry showed up the next day for tea and some more stilted conversation.

Every day Harry showed up and every day the conversation became easier. As the summer came to an end and it was time for students to return to Hogwarts it was also time for Harry to go. With his letter from Kingsley inviting him to Auror training tucked in his back pocket, he met Hagrid under the castle, where the boats docked. Harry had arrived here on one of those boats and for nothing more than sentimental reasons he wanted to leave on one as well. To Harry's surprise Severus was there as well. Hagrid told Harry he hoped he didn't mind but Professor Snape was leaving as well and he would be crossing the lake with them. Harry hadn't minded at all.

He and Severus sat in the boat, which seemed so much smaller than it had when he'd been eleven, with Harry's trunk behind them and their knees tucked against their chests. Hagrid piloted the boat from the stern and talked about the newly built parts to the castle and the repairs he was making to the grounds. On and on he talked but Harry didn't pay attention at all. He kept peering out of the corner of his eye at Severus.

Other than a greying nightshirt long ago, for the first time Harry saw Severus in something other than swirling black robes. He wore wool trousers and a striped shirt. It was open at the collar and Harry could see the angry red scar left by Nagini. Severus kept his hands firmly on his knees and squinted straight ahead. Harry realized for the first time how very attractive Severus was.

They disembarked and after a hug from Hagrid he reached out to shake Severus' hand. Severus looked him in the eyes, took his hand, shook it firmly and turned to Disapparate.

“Hannah Abbott bought The Leaky Cauldron,” Harry said in a rush, worried he was going to lose Severus.

Severus turned and said, “I shall avoid it, then.”

“No,” Harry said. “I only meant to say she told me to come by any time. I was thinking of stopping in there on Tuesday. After I get out of training.”

Severus only nodded before he Disapparated, but on Tuesday he showed up at The Leaky Cauldron moments after Harry.

So it went, more weekly meetings. Eventually Harry ventured to call him Severus and much, much later Severus started calling him Harry. Severus took a job at the Ministry. Harry would never have guessed that Severus would be fine with working for the government, but he wasn't sure he knew the man all that well.

Harry thought they were friends but never could be sure. He didn't know if Severus was humouring him for show so that wizarding society accepted him, or if he enjoyed Harry's company. Either way Harry didn't care; he liked being around Severus because he was nothing short of brutally honest with Harry, always. Harry found it increasingly difficult to find people who were that way with him. He had Ron and Hermione, of course, but now he had Severus along with them.

That had started their weekly ritual of seeing one another, but a year later something happened that Harry would never have thought would happen. It was at Hermione's birthday party and she'd insisted on inviting everyone she had ever met. The pub was too crowded and Harry was feeling a bit too squiffy to think straight, so he stepped outside. Severus was behind the pub as well, nursing a firewhisky. Harry didn't say a word to him but merely stumbled over and kissed him.

They ended up back at Harry's flat. Harry, despite his recent fumblings with other men, came faster than he ever had in his life. Severus didn't mind, though. He licked Harry clean and brought him to full hardness again with his mouth.

After that they no longer met for tea or drinks or anything else. It became a matter of how quickly could they get each other naked. On occasion they would make dinner together, or more often go somewhere and eat or get a pint, but not until after they'd had sex. Severus buried deep in his arse; it seemed as if nothing else existed until that was done.

Harry arrived at Severus' one night, after a hard wretched day of training, to find Severus was packing. He had his first foreign assignment and was leaving in the morning. They had their first real row. Not an argument, not anything remotely that congenial sounding.

Harry was furious that Severus would leave without warning him, without even mentioning it. Severus claimed he owed Harry nothing and didn't have to answer to him. Harry wanted to slam Severus against the wall and beg him to stay while he fucked him, but he didn't. He didn't want their last time to be tainted with the hard words of their fight. With a childish parting shot from each of them, Harry left.

Harry had heard nothing from him or of him in almost four years when he was called about an accident, possibly murder. Halle Binici had been in London for the Quidditch World Cup planning meeting when she was ploughed down by a car as she was crossing the street to her hotel. There was nothing extraordinary about the crime, and it should have never seen the desk of an Auror; however, the Turkish Minister had thrown a fit and demanded the famous Harry Potter on the case.

This happened to Harry occasionally over his career. Families, governments or others would demand special treatment and insist that Harry would be the only Auror they trusted. Sometimes Kingsley said no and other times it was easier not to fight and to just put Harry on the case; this was one of those times.

As far as Harry could tell it had been an accident. The car and driver had completely disappeared but there weren't that many witnesses and most of them had been staring at the broken body in the street.

The magical trace spells were of no help. With so many witches and wizards from out of the country staying at the hotel, it was impossible to get a single magical print.

As Harry dug further he found that Binici was lucky to have lived as long as she had. She had a long history of suspicion of bribing Quidditch officials and fixing games. She had never been prosecuted but from what Harry could tell, she was just smart enough to always evade the law.

The case had reached a dead end and Harry had been about to declare it an accident when he was having lunch with some of his Muggle contacts one day. They all got pissed, as usual, and as they were crossing the street one of them joked about getting run down by a car.

Harry asked what that was about. Of course the story of Binici had been in the Muggle papers in an attempt to find the driver, so all the Muggles had heard about it. But what Harry found out in addition was that less than a year previous, one of their very own had been killed in the same way in Milan. The major difference was that this driver had been found.

Harry raced off to Italy to find the court records. The man hadn't been tried yet but Harry was able to find the police report. The report summed up that the driver'd had a stroke or possible seizure.

With Ron and his favourite interpreter, Padma Patil, at his side, Harry went to talk to the man. As he recounted the story Harry and Ron gave each other sidelong glances. He could see why the man thought he'd had a seizure and woken up in the hospital hours later with the horrific story that he'd accidentally run down a man in the street. But what Harry heard was that the man had been Imperiused and then had a rather good memory charm put on him. Ron and Padma agreed that was what it sounded like to them, too, but they were much more inclined to believe he'd actually had a seizure. What use would a wizard have for killing some boring Muggle in such a way?

Harry had nothing to go on, so he investigated the dead Muggle. Turned out he wasn't just some boring Muggle. He was tied up in money laundering in every possible way. Still, that was a Muggle government affair, so why would a wizard have anything to do with that?

After that Harry had nothing. He refused to close the Binici case even at insistence from the Head Auror and added insistence from Kingsley. He was assigned other cases but every spare moment he came back to that one. Poring over the same files again and again.

Months passed and then another Muggle died. This time it was a British attaché to Spain who was found dead in a Spanish hotel room with a prostitute. The prostitute wasn't dead and like all good witnesses to crimes she sold her story to the papers. The attaché, Jones, had a history of drug abuse, so it was no surprise he was found dead with the needle still in his arm. The prostitute who had shot up with the same exact drugs lived, however. According to her she had arrived at the hotel but then fallen asleep, even though she didn't recall being tired. When she had woken the drugs were there and Jones was unzipping his case of needles. 

The falling asleep smelled of memory modification to Harry. His case felt revived.

Harry had his secretary get a list of every government official who‘d died abroad in the last decade. He went through every single name, but there was nothing. He went through them again, and noticed that one person wasn't dead at all. She was a Greek woman who had been employed by the British government, and she was still very much alive. Her husband, though, was not. Stavros Anthes had died of an apparent heart attack. This wasn't conclusive, though, and the family had refused an autopsy. He'd been old, he'd had a heart condition, and wasn't it certain how he had died?

He, however, was linked for years to a series of unsavoury people. Never caught in anything illegal himself, but it was all there, floating around him.

Next Harry got a list of every wizard deployed to a non-Magical government. That wasn't enough, though. Wizards could pop in and out of places in a snap. Harry needed more.

This was how he'd got to know Wiggens. First Harry had broken into the Muggle Travel Appropriations office, Wiggens' office, at night and duplicated files. As he'd followed Wiggens he'd seen how the man really was – a loose-lipped chatterbox – and that there was no need to go to such lengths.

It wasn't long before Harry heard about 'Hoover', the very bane of Wiggens' existence. 'Hoover's' specialty was traveling to different offices and making sure they were the model of efficiency. He had an eye for gaps in the system. He saw every employee as expendable and had a place running at top performance within months of arriving.

Over lunch one day Wiggens told the table at large his favourite anecdote about 'Hoover'. He had been deployed to Greece for a short time. He'd gone out and had later arrived back at his hotel only to find they had checked him out of his room. Furious his belongings were missing, he called Wiggens at three in the morning demanding he come there personally and find them.

“What's Snape doing out at three in the morning?” One of the lunch companions mused and Harry choked on potatoes.

He quickly returned to the Ministry and went to find out Severus' exact job position. Officially Severus was the Magical Representative to the Muggle Government, Working in International Affairs. And that was it, Harry could get nothing else.

That night Harry broke into Wiggens' office again. He found Severus' file and took every bit of credit card transaction history he could.

England, Italy, Spain and Greece; Severus had been all those places and also a lot more. Harry felt sick for a very long time.

When he righted himself Harry went back to his office with fresh eyes. Now, every death he looked at, he saw Severus' hand in it. The deaths were all so unremarkable Harry could just imagine the kind of calculation it took to make them appear that way.

When the Basque man died in his office, cause of death trauma to the head with a secondary injury of a letter opener in his chest, Harry knew it was Severus.

All he needed then was to find Severus when he was poised for his next kill. It took time but he showed up in Brussels, one of the places where Harry had marked a potential target.

~~~~

Now Harry had nothing to do but catch Severus before he acted, or even in the act. If he could somehow prove Severus was plotting to kill, that would be enough to arrest him, and then perhaps once Harry searched his flat he could find more conclusive evidence of everything else.

Assassins were better known for their patience, however. Over the course of eight years, Harry could figure Severus was involved in only five assassinations, but he wouldn't have been surprised if there were more. These sorts of things took time and so Harry had to wait.

He had Ron send him a couple of his boxes of files. Harry busied himself in his makeshift office, re-enlarging them to normal size and then organizing them. He tacked a large map of England and Europe up on the wall. He traced Severus' known movements in blue, his clandestine travels in green, and he marked each death on the map in bright red.

Harry had just started going over his notes for suspected magical methods used for each killing when the door to his office burst open.

Severus' gaze flicked quickly around the room before they settled on Harry. “You are not permitted to have office space here.”

“Says who?”

“I do. I am in charge and I have not signed off on a third party lease of this office.”

“It's hardly an office,” Harry said with a snort. The room was an old storeroom tucked far away in the basement. There was hardly enough room for the table and chair Harry had Transfigured.

“Four walls and a door, it's an office,” Severus said. He still held on to the door handle and had a white-knuckled grip on it. Harry kept his smile from reaching his mouth. This was exactly what he wanted: Severus annoyed at his presence.

“It shouldn't be a problem,” Harry said easily. “I'm not leasing anything. Mrs. Pound said I could use this room. No one will care. Hardly anyone comes down here.”

“Mrs. Pound will be dealt with after I get rid of you,” Severus said quietly.

“Severus, she's a nice woman. I asked for her help and she did the best she could. There are other empty offices but she put me here, because she didn't want to upset you,” Harry said.

“I knew you must have smiled and looked pathetic just to manipulate that woman.”

“I don't have a pathetic look,” Harry huffed back.

“There are gradations of pathetic looks you make, but my guess is you used the one where you smile bashfully and blink your eyes just so. Like a lost puppy.” The back of Harry's neck felt suddenly warm to have Severus talking about him this way, but his insides also thrilled. Severus was softening up.

Severus walked all the way into the room and shut the door behind him. “What sort of case requires this much clutter?” Severus said vaguely, gesturing at all the items Harry had around the room.

“This isn't even half of what I have,” Harry said. “It's your standard international assassin investigation.”

“You have a history of investigating assassins,” Severus said sceptically.

“I do,” Harry replied with assurance, even though it was a lie. Harry had experience with one case, the one he was currently working on. “They're not anything fancy. Usually straightforward, almost boring.” Harry shrugged in a nonchalant way.

“And your assassin is here? In Brussels?”

“Sure is. Coincidence you're here at the same time.”

“One of life's small pleasures,” Severus replied dryly. “What sort of person does your killer go after? I have a lot of people who have a good reason to hate me.”

Harry picked up a file and dropped it in front of Severus. “Here's some of the people he's killed. They're all Muggles but one – you'll be safe.”

Severus opened the file and looked slowly through it. The file contained the essentials of all of the victims at a quick glance. It was full of pictures of each deceased body – several in fact. There were photos of the bodies at the crime scenes, still not cleaned up, photos of just the crime scenes, photos of the bodies in the morgue and some photos of the bodies mid-autopsy. There were also what Muggles called 'toxicology reports' and the traditional coroner's reports.

It was enough to make a normal person sick; Harry's shoes had been covered with vomit more than once when unsuspecting persons had seen crime scene photos.

Severus, as Harry could have told you, wasn't normal. He looked at each photo and report, then closed the file and said, “Jones died of a drug overdose, it says right here.”

“I don't think he did. The woman he was with is still alive.” Severus looked unbothered by this statement. Harry didn't expect a huge reaction from Severus. He was hoping the guilt of seeing all the bodies and knowing Harry was on to him would be enough to keep him from doing anything.

“Your tenacity never wavers,” Severus said. “Now that I've looked at those disgusting images you can buy me a drink. Wash the whole occurrence from my mind.”

Harry smiled and said, “Sure thing.”

***

It was like being in Potions class again. Severus was talking but Harry hadn't heard a word. He knew Severus was talking about Muggle bureaucracy being slower than wizarding bureaucracy but other than that, Harry had nothing.

The major difference tonight was that Harry wanted to listen to what Severus had to say but couldn't force himself to. He was too preoccupied trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the killer he wanted to arrest.

Harry hadn't a doubt Severus was capable of killing, but sitting out of the rain in a warm pub with its smells of warm chips and yeasty beer, and Severus being agreeable, it was hard to remember why he'd even suspected Severus in the first place.

Harry's evidence was like a Roman arch. He had several solid sturdy pieces, but he couldn't make the case work without one more piece, the keystone, and so far it was evading him. He'd thought it wouldn't take this long, over a week, and the longer it was taking the more Harry doubted.

He replayed every conversation with Ron in his head. Those conversations had mostly consisted of Harry making an impassioned defence that he was on the right track, and Ron rolling his eyes and telling him he only wanted it to be Snape. Harry would always argue back and ask why for one bleeding second would he want Severus to be an assassin, to which Ron would reply, “I think you just like chasing him.”

Now, as he sat across from Severus he could see Ron's point exactly. Severus' face was pink from the warmth of the pub and he made small circles on the table with his elegant fingers as he spoke. At first when Harry had got to know Severus he'd thought it was a nervous habit, trying to control himself around _Potter_. But as Harry grew to know him he'd noticed that Severus moved constantly even in small ways. His mind was too quick for his body to hold completely still.

Their first dinner together since Harry had arrived in Brussels, well over a week ago, had started out rough. Harry had kept looking for openings to catch Severus or further his case but he'd found nothing. Harry had changed directions mid-meal as Severus became surly at Harry's attitude. Harry had let down his guard and actually talked to Severus about everything but work, and ever since he had been unable to bring his guard back up.

Harry was determined that tonight he would get back on track but that seemed like it might be impossible. Severus was under his skin as much as he had ever been. Harry was almost feeling guilty for suspecting Severus of all those crimes.

“ - then again, leather straps, some handcuffs, and an i-bolt in the ceiling would go with the current décor.”

“What?” Harry said, snapping to attention. “What are you talking about?”

Severus gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I knew you weren't listening to me. I, better than anyone else, know when _you_ are not paying attention.”

“This is true,” Harry said. “I'm sorry, now what were you saying?”

Severus sighed but leaned forward and said, “I was telling you the headaches of getting all of the shit moved out of my office. Had I been able to use magic in this situation I would have Banished all of it the moment I walked in the office. As is, I don't think the Muggles will ever get around to cleaning it all out so I might as well add to the décor. I grew tired of you not listening and knew talking about anything sexual would snap you back to reality.”

“How is an i-bolt sexual?”

Severus opened his mouth to answer but then closed it and reached for his drink. Harry saw his face grow a little pinker. Severus cleared his throat and said into his drink, “It is not my job to demystify your delicate virginal thoughts.”

Harry chortled and said, “Yeah, that's me, all innocence and purity.”

“It's not?”

“You _know_ it's not.”

“I do.”

“I have a pair or two of handcuffs you can borrow if you want,” Harry said, scooting to the edge of his chair. His trousers were growing tight and he needed to adjust.

“One of the delights of being with a full-fledged Auror: they know all sorts of ways to detain you and have plenty of handcuffs on hand. I knew it was a mistake to leave before you completed your training.” Severus' gaze held Harry while he spoke but then it flicked away. Harry looked away, too; Severus wasn't the only one who had said too much. Harry should not be flirting with Severus. He was already doubting his entire case and this could and would only lead to trouble.

“So...er.” Harry took a drink and then tried again. “All those weapons in your office aren't yours?”

“No,” Severus said, jumping at the benign opening. “They were left by the previous occupant. He had some sort of medieval weapons fascination. Did you think they were mine?”

“I did wonder,” Harry said. “I thought they were part of your guise, to scare the Muggle employees.”

“I do not need an array of weapons to intimidate anyone.” Harry smiled because this was one of the truest things ever said. “I am considering keeping the set of throwing daggers. They could come in handy.”

“For what? When you join the circus and run a knife-throwing stall?” Harry said.

“I work for the government, Harry. It's already enough of a circus.” Severus picked up his drink and drained it.

“Here, I'll go get us more,” Harry said, moving to stand.

“No, don't. I have to go. I've been up since four, I'm exhausted and if I have another drink I'll be curled up under the table.” Severus pulled his wallet out and Harry waved him off.

“No, we'll let the Ministry pay for it.” Harry put a few Euros on the table and stood as well.

They walked out of the pub and the rain was nothing more than a drizzle. “Shall I walk you home? Or are you okay to Apparate?”

“No, I'll walk by myself,” Severus said as he pulled up the collar of his coat to block the chill in the air. “I don't think it's wise for you to walk me home.” Severus' eyes met Harry's, and the frisson from their earlier conversation returned.

Harry swallowed hard and said, “Right. Good idea.” Even though he thought it would be a brilliant idea to walk Severus home. “I'll see you tomorrow?” Harry asked, grasping at any hope.

“I have a sodding cocktail reception to go to.” Severus blinked at Harry for a moment, then added, “You are welcome to come with me if you like. I do warn it's nothing but boring Muggle political jockeying all night long.” Harry smiled, thinking of the face Ron would make over Harry attending a boring party.

“You'll be there, so not altogether boring,” Harry replied.

“No dinner jacket, but you will have to wear a suit,” Severus added.

“All right. Meet you at your office?”

Severus nodded and said, “Good night, Harry.” He turned to leave and Harry watched him all the way down the street.

***

The cocktail party wasn't half as bad as Severus had warned or Ron assumed. It was part of the weeklong schedule of events to welcome the new ambassador from Australia. It seemed like every Australian in a five-hundred kilometre radius was at the party, along with several other ambassadors and staff. The Australians brought a loud, easy-going atmosphere to the party. Harry hadn't had a boring conversation all night. Not to mention they were all tall, tanned and good looking.

He started out the evening talking to a representative from New Zealand. Harry had always assumed that, due to proximity, Aussies and Kiwis would be very similar. The man told him this was like saying the Irish and British are the same. While some wouldn't be bothered by the comparison a lot of people would be mortally offended. He had just started telling Harry about all the great camping and hiking opportunities when Severus appeared with two glasses of champagne.

“Peter, poor dear Potter does not want to hear about camping excursions.” Severus handed one of the glasses to the man. “I assure you he's had enough camping for a lifetime.”

Harry nodded and looked at Severus gratefully. “You'd best drink that and then get over to Lars. He's been cornered by that man you don't like from the Japanese travel company.”

Peter nodded politely and took off in another direction.

“I don't get a glass of champagne?” Harry said as Severus took a sip from his flute.

“No. You'll have too many and then your judgment will be impaired and then where would we be? I wouldn't be able to find you and you'd be off in a corner with Peter's hand in your trousers.”

“He's a nice-looking bloke,” Harry said with a wicked grin.

“He's too old for you,” Severus said in a short, clipped tone.

“Is he?” Harry said and raised his brows.

Severus glared at him and then spotted a woman he needed to have a “quick word with” and told Harry he'd be right back.

Instead of waiting in one place Harry found the bar and got himself a drink – not champagne, it gave him terrible headaches actually – and then found some canapés to snack on.

He then ended up talking to an Indian woman. Her bright green and purple sari stood out in the sea of dark suits. Her skin was smooth and beautifully dark, and her black hair was streaked with grey so perfectly it looked as if an artist had painted it there. She had a slight build; Harry guessed she was only ninety, ninety-five pounds at best. But like many small women Harry knew, what she lacked in size she made up for with fierceness. Within a couple of minutes of talking to her, Harry knew she was not a woman to ever be bullied. He liked her right away. 

Despite being charmed by her lilting accent and good sense of humour, Harry kept glancing past her at Severus. He was no more than a few steps away and appeared to be deeply engaged in some strong debate. His gaze kept landing on Harry, though, and he did not looked pleased. Whether it was the conversation Severus was having or Harry's interaction with the woman, Harry didn't know, and so he kept talking to her.

Soon Severus appeared at Harry's elbow and the woman said, "Severus, do you know Harry?”

“That depends, has he done anything?” Severus replied.

“Other than be a delightful conversationalist, no,” she replied and Harry smiled smugly at Severus.

“Wonderful,” Severus said back.

“If you two will excuse me,” the woman said. She gave Harry's arm a firm squeeze and then moved into the crowd.

“What were you and the Indian ambassador talking about?” Severus said, grabbing Harry's elbow. 

“I didn't know that's who she was,” Harry said. “I was only admiring her sari.”

“At least she knows you're gay then,” Severus replied dryly.

“Why would she know that?”

“No straight man opens a conversation with a beautiful woman to compliment her attire.”

“They don't?”

“No,” Severus said with a shake of his head.

Harry still wasn't sure how admiring something so bright indicated anything about him other than appreciation for colour but he said, “I guess I never really thought about how to act gay or straight. I just do what I want.”

“Naturally.”

Harry and Severus moved through the party together, Severus introduced Harry around. Everyone was kind and warm to him, which made Severus' mood worse and worse.

When they got separated again Harry found himself talking to three men about Australian rules football. One them was a well-known player. He was well built and, had he been a wizard, would have made a good Keeper if not Beater.

Niles, the footballer, had just handed Harry another drink when Severus appeared, again. “Gentlemen,” he said with a nod to the three Aussies. “Sorry to drag Mr. Potter away, but it's an urgent affair of state business.”

Harry hardly got a goodbye out before Severus was marching him from the room.

“What's wrong?” Harry whispered trying to pull free of Severus' grip.

Severus didn't reply but only held tighter. They got to the corridor and Severus looked right, then left, and then pulled Harry to the right.

They made it to the coat room and Severus shoved Harry in. “What the bloody hell is your problem?” Harry said, whipping around and instinctively grabbing for his wand.

“You,” Severus said, “are my problem.”

He stepped closer to Harry and pushed him further into the recesses of damp coats and kissed him. Harry was so surprised he didn't kiss back right away but as Severus pressed his body closer, Harry grabbed his lapels and kissed back.

“I'm tired of everyone loving you,” Severus said, kissing across Harry's jaw and down his neck.

“You want them to hate me?” Harry said with a smile. The rush of having Severus kissing and touching him was sending waves of euphoria through his body.

“They don't know you,” Severus said, bringing his head up and looking Harry in the eyes. He grabbed Harry's waist and pulled Harry to him. “They're not allowed to love you. You're mine,” Severus growled.

And before Harry could reply or think Severus' mouth was back on his. Then it was on his neck again, and Severus was gripping his chest, rubbing his nipple through his shirt. Harry reached for Severus' belt but Severus dropped to his knees before Harry could do anything with it.

Severus made quick work of Harry's trousers and his mouth was on Harry's cock in moments. Harry gripped the back of his head, Severus' short hair soft but with an edge of prickliness on the palm of Harry's hand.

Harry looked down and bit his lips to keep from groaning. Severus' head between his legs was a gorgeous sight. Severus looked up at Harry and then opened his mouth wider, taking Harry in more deeply. Harry bucked his hips in reply; he knew Severus liked having his mouth fucked.

Severus pulled Harry's pants down further and reached for his balls. As he rolled them in his hand, Harry's head fell back and was pillowed by all the coats surrounding them.

The room smelled of wet wool and perfume. Harry didn't think he'd ever again have a damp cloak without getting hard.

Severus pressed his tongue, long and flat, to the back of Harry's cock. Harry rolled his hips more, riding Severus' face. Severus sucked harder and moved his head faster. Harry's toes curled in his shoes and tried to grip Severus' hair but the sort strands escaped his grasp. Severus squeezed Harry's balls and that was it. Harry dug his teeth into his lower lip and he came. He squeezed his eyes so tightly that lights blossomed behind them.

He felt Severus' throat flex and swallow around him. Fuck, it felt good.

Harry's legs felt shaky as Severus stood and pressed Harry hard against the wall. He ground his cock against Harry's thigh and whispered in his ear, “Come to my flat with me. Unless you want to drop your trousers in here.”

“No,” Harry said. “Let's go.”

***

When Harry woke he could tell by the light that it was pissing down rain, again. He pressed further under the covers. The rain reminded him of home and he wasn't ready to go back, not yet.

His case was dead and he had no reason to be whiling away his time in Belgium, other than that sharing a bed with Severus every night was quite nice. It had been over a week since the night at the cocktail party and Harry felt the pull more and more every day, telling him that he had to get back to his job.

He felt bad wasting money while he spent days walking around the streets and waiting for Severus to get home so they could fuck, then going to get dinner so they would have the energy to come back and fuck again.

When he filled out his expense report he would take holiday leave for this week, he thought. Even though he had spent all that when Teddy'd had Dragon Pox for a month. He could go unpaid – it was worth it. He did need to get back, though.

He rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom, where he could hear the water running. He opened the shower door and stepped in behind Severus.

“How long have you been awake?” Harry asked as he drew Severus to him and placed a kiss on his shoulder.

“Only an hour. How long have you been up?” Severus said, grinding his stiff cock against Harry's.

Harry laughed against Severus' skin and said, “Woke up that way.” He rolled his hips. Severus laughed quietly and put his hands on Harry's hips, slowly nudging him to turn around.

Harry arched his back, grinding his arse against Severus. “How long have you been up?” Harry said teasingly.

“Always that way when you're around.”

Severus pushed hard against Harry's arse. Harry flexed his toes, seeking purchase on the slick tiles so he could push back. Severus rubbed faster in reply. The hot water sluiced between them, slicking his efforts. Harry widened his stance and Severus pushed between his arse cheeks.

Severus rested his forehead to Harry's shoulder and said, “Touch yourself.” He punctuated his words with a thrust and Harry wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking in time with Severus' thrusts.

“Push in me. Fuck me properly,” Harry said, aching to be stretched and filled. His cock twitched at the thought.

“Christ,” Severus said, rolling his hips. “Can't wait that long.”

Harry growled and pushed hard against Severus, their feet slipping on the wet tiles momentarily. Severus put his palm flat to the shower wall to steady them.

Harry pumped his hips and hand faster. Severus kissed his shoulder and licked up the droplets of water that gathered there. Severus ran his hand across Harry's chest and circled a nipple with his thumb. Harry moaned and rocked his hips faster.

“God, yes,” Severus groaned. “Faster.”

Harry doubled his efforts and slammed against Severus as hard and as fast as he could. The sound of slapping skin mixed with the sound of draining water.

Severus grabbed Harry's hips with both hands and pulled him sharply against him once, twice. Harry's orgasm tore from him and he cried out, grinding Severus' cock till every last drop was gone.

“Oh fuck,” Severus said over and over as he stilled and came on Harry's arse.

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and held him close. “I like when you wake up that way,” Severus said, placing one hand on top of Harry's. “Nice of you to humour me and act needy.”

“I'm not humouring you,” Harry said, turning to kiss him. 

“I know you need me but you pretend like you don't,” Severus said back.

“I'm not pretending anything.” Harry was starting to feel like Severus was ruining the moment. “I do need you.” 

Severus turned Harry around. “I apologize. I didn't mean to upset you. I was only teasing.” Severus arched his face up and kissed Harry. “Let's wash up, I made coffee already. You can make us some toast.”

“Your toaster's a piece of shit. Half the time it's warm bread, the other half it's nothing better than a shingle.”

“It's temperamental. It requires the right touch,” Severus said back. 

“I'll try again. I can handle temperamental.” Harry pushed his head through the water and kissed Severus.

***

“Owl Post, for you,” Severus said, returning from the window.

“From who?” Harry said automatically.

“I did not read them as they are yours but I would say one from each of the members of your magical little trio,” Severus said, handing Harry the letters. “I recognize the handwriting.”

Harry opened Ron's letter first; Hermione's felt quite thick and he knew it would take longer to get through.

Harry began to read Ron's, which was short, and Severus said, “What's the matter?”

Harry looked up, “Nothing, why?”

“Please, Harry,” Severus said, putting his hand on Harry's. “Let's not lie to each other. We are far past that.” His eyes were clear and his face so sincere that Harry felt instantly guilty.

“Can we talk about it later? You have to get to work,” Harry replied, knowing this wasn't a short conversation.

“I would prefer we talk about it now. I don't want to go through my day wondering.”

Harry moved his hand so his and Severus' fingers were entwined. He took a breath and said, “I need to go back to work.”

“You aren't working here?” Severus asked.

Harry hadn't exactly told Severus that he had stopped working. He'd let Severus assume he was working all day and not actually allowing his work trip to turn into a holiday.

“No,” Harry said, and then he hurried to say more when he saw Severus' expression. “I mean I was. Then the whole thing fell apart and I've been staying to be with you.”

“When do you have to go?” Severus said.

“It's probably a good idea if I go today.”

“Today?” Severus had pulled back and he blinked several times.

Harry felt the back of his neck grow hot. This conversation was beginning to annoy him. “What do you expect me to do? I have a job. I can't sit around your flat all day cooking and cleaning at your whim.”

“I would hardly call this cooking,” Severus said, picking up a piece of burnt toast and letting it drop with a clunk. Harry really hated that toaster.

“Good, then I won't be missed,” Harry said back.

“I did not say that,” Severus said, yanking his hand away. “You led me to believe you had something to do.”

“Is it so much worse that I don't anymore, so I stayed for you?” Harry said back.

“I would have preferred the truth from the start.” Severus looked straight at Harry, his face as hard as steel.

Harry's stomach dropped. Was Severus talking about Harry's case? Did he know that Harry thought it was him? Of course he did. He wasn't stupid. Harry had done everything possible to imply he was after Severus. “The truth is,” Harry began slowly, “I came here for one reason and I stayed for another.”

They looked at each other for a long time without speaking and then Severus said, “I need to go. I'm late.”

Severus stood and Banished his dishes to the sink and grabbed his coat and briefcase. He walked towards the door but stopped and said, “Will you be here when I get back?”

Severus turned and he added, “I don't expect you to cook and clean for me.”

“That would be asking a lot.” Harry smiled. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Be here when I get back.”

“Yes.”

***

Harry's trainers squeaked across the entrance hall floor. He almost fell but he luckily caught himself before falling, and he also managed not to smash the takeout bag in his other hand. Squished spider rolls and miso soup that had been cleaned up off the floor wouldn't make a particularly romantic or even good meal.

“Harry! Harry!”

Harry dropped the food and sprinted for the sitting room.

“Harry, are you there?”

Harry skidded across the hearthrug and landed in front of the fire place with a knee-bruising crash.

“Oh fuck. You are there. What the hell are you doing at Snape's? Don't answer that, I don't-”

“Ron!” Harry had to stop him now. He rubbed his knees and said, “What's going on?”

“Did you get my owl?” Ron looked more flushed than usual.

“Yeah. I got your owl. Hermione sent one, too. Said she was in a meeting with Montgomery and he was bending Kingsley's ear about me being gone. I was going to come home tomorrow,” Harry said.

“Amra's dead.”

“How?” Harry said despite feeling suddenly breathless.

“Pileup on the motorway. At least ten cars are involved. Amra's driver said a cat ran across the road, he slammed on the brakes. Amra's seatbelt malfunctioned or something and he went through the windshield. We've been looking for you since it happened,” Ron said, accusation written all across his freckled face.

“How many others are dead?” Harry said, trying to keep the conversation to the job at hand.

“That's the thing, Harry. No one else is dead, or even hurt. Our contact in Brussels says the place is oozing magic. I tried to find you, Harry. It's taken a bit.” Ron looked apologetic but still his face was full of blame.

“Thanks, Ron.” Harry scratched his head. “Don't let anyone else know. I'll take care of it.”

“Harry, I tried to keep it from Montgomery. He'll have your arse if he finds out you're there. You can't hide behind the Minister, Harry. Montgomery knows the Minister wants you for his job and he'll find any reason to get rid of you.”

“Ron,” Harry said sharply. “Thank you, I've got it.”

Ron gave Harry a tight-lipped nod and his head disappeared with a pop.

***

Harry heard the door shut with a soft click. He heard two steps, and could hear Severus put down his briefcase. Harry clasped his hands together as he heard the whisper of fabric as Severus took off his jacket and the soft thuds as he removed his shoes.

He could feel Severus approaching the sitting room more than hear him. Severus was always a quiet bugger. Harry saw Severus' backlit form, dark and menacing, enter the room. He reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

Harry sat very still as Severus stared blankly at him.

“I thought you were still here.”

“How?” Harry said with surprise. Harry didn't want to brag but he thought his methods of remaining undetected had advanced to even beyond Severus' abilities to discern.

“You are a man of your word. You said you would be here when I got home.” Harry couldn't tell if this pleased Severus or not.

Severus walked towards the kitchen, loosening his tie, and laying it across the back of the sofa as he did. Harry could hear a bottle and glasses clinking. He stood and turned to face Severus.

“May I get you something to drink?” Severus said as he poured himself a generous measure of scotch. “I have ice. I know you prefer your drink chilled.”

“No, thank you,” Harry said. “I'm on duty.”

Severus looked at Harry from the toes of his black boots, all the way up his woollen trousers, to his scarlet waistcoat and robes. Harry had never felt like such an object of sexuality in his entire life. “So I see,” Severus replied evenly. “To what do I owe the honour of such a high placed Auror coming to see me?”

Harry swallowed hard; trying to be in charge and rein in his conflicting emotions was a lot harder than he anticipated. “Joseph Amra is dead. Do you know him?”

“Not personally, no,” Severus said.

“You know I meant did you know who he was,” Harry said with an edge.

“I know, but upsetting you never loses its charm.” Before Harry could retort Severus hurried on. “Yes, I know who he was, and his death was no great pity. He didn't run an animal shelter or have a particular soft spot for children. If one is guilty by association then the opposite of him is true, especially if the children were of the wrong faith. We'll take it that animals are generally without religion.”

It irritated Harry that he wasn't taking the situation seriously. “He isn't on trial at The Hague, his son is.”

“I did say guilty by association. He was doing everything in his power, legal but mostly not, to get his son out of this particular situation.”

”It's not your job to act as executioner,” Harry said irritably.

Severus didn't reply right away. He took a slow sip of his drink then said, “Have I missed something in being abroad the last few years? This is a new area of expertise for you. Harry Potter the champion of Muggle-borns, half-bloods, house-elves and now Muggles who dabble in genocide.”

“This has nothing to do with him,” Harry said losing his temper. “This is about you. You killed him.”

Severus raised his brows, silently giving Harry the expectation that he should say something better than that. Harry stubbornly said nothing and stared back.

“I'm confused by you acting shocked over this. Should I be flattered that you think I am above such an act? We both know I'm not. Or should I be insulted because you think I now lack the ability to accomplish such a delicate and complicated matter.”

“I was here. You did it right under my nose, knowing full well-”

“You're insulted then. You consider yourself such a fine Auror that no one can commit a crime right under your nose. If it's any consolation, Harry, I am not your average petty thief.” 

“Stop being such a bleeding bastard,” Harry growled. “You knew I suspected you and you must have realized at some point I gave that up. I felt good with you, like finally everything was right between us, and then you went out and killed again to go and ruin everything.”

“No,” Severus said his voice carrying a sharp edge. “I did it today because I didn't want you leaving here with any false illusions about who I am.”

“I know who you are!”

“Do you? Convinced I'm a murderer and then sharing my bed the instant the opportunity presented itself.”

“Fucking you had nothing to do with my case! I thought I was wrong.”

“Fucking? Such a polite way to categorize this relationship.”

“You're the one who made it into nothing. It meant something to me but clearly not to you.”

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” Snape said through gritted teeth.

Harry closed his eyes as if it would block out the words. He didn't want to hear that Severus had any sort of feelings for him. Love or hate, it didn't matter; it would only make this harder than it already was.

Harry took a steady breath, opened his eyes, and spoke as calmly as he could, but his voice still trembled with anger as he did. “I came here to be the one to take you in. I won't let anyone else do it.”

Severus snorted and shook his head. He walked towards Harry and said, “As smart as you are, as much as you've grown, you still have it completely wrong. I love being the one that gets to tell you this: You cannot arrest me. I've done nothing wrong.”

Harry widened his stance and felt his chest broaden as he tried to look as intimidating as possible. “You've seen my case file. The accident scene is bleeding with magic and there's enough there to connect you with every other death.”

“I'm a government-hired employee, Harry. They paid me to do that,” Severus said with a condescending air.

“You are not sanctioned to use magic on Muggles.”

“I believe if you go talk to your dear friend the Minister you'll find that I am. Besides, today was the only day you found magic. I know that.” Harry felt suddenly sick and must have looked it because Severus said, “Don't take it so hard. I'm rather impressed you got this far. I have no idea how you even knew as much as you did. I think many would agree I am not an easy man to catch.”

“It's not that,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. Harry rubbed his hand through his hair and shook his head, trying to order his thoughts with his feelings. “You left to do this? To travel around and kill people?” Harry looked at Severus and didn't even attempt to hide the pain which he knew showed clearly on his face.

“I took a job. One I am good at,” Severus said.

“You could have been anything. Done anything. You had another chance and this is the life you chose?”

“My job is ugly, I know that. I do it because I can and people like you can't.”

“People like me?”

“Politics isn't parties with caviar and toast points. It's not even the mounds of bureaucratic paperwork. It's a street fight. It's nasty, there are few rules, and what rules there are, people break anyway. Someone has to get their hands dirty.”

“It didn't have to be you!” Harry said, his anger overtaking him.

“Yes, it, did,” Severus said in a whisper. “You think anyone could do this? I see the situation for what it is. Liabilities, people who blackmail, people who fund horrendous acts. The world cannot wait for governments to gather all the evidence; people and situations need to be dealt with swiftly and effectively.”

“I can't – I can't do this,” Harry said as he strode to Severus and grabbed his hands, that were oddly damp with sweat. “Don't do this, Severus. Don't be this person.”

Severus looked at his hand in Harry's and then up into Harry's eyes. He looked almost apologetic as he spoke. “Stop being disappointed when the rest of us aren't as good as you.”

“Stop thinking that way about yourself.”

Severus was suddenly on Harry, kissing him with sharp teeth scraping against Harry's lower lip, and his tongue demanding that Harry's mouth open wider. He buried his hands in Harry's robes, twisting the fabric, pulling Harry's closer.

Harry grabbed Severus, pulling him closer, and shoved his leg between Severus' thighs, just as he would a suspect before he searched them. He spread Severus' legs wide and pushed his thigh to Severus' groin.

He grabbed Severus' wrists and pried his hands way from his robes, forcing Severus' arms to his side. He pulled away from Severus' mouth but only to lower his own. He licked a path down Severus' beautiful, pale throat. Severus groaned and dropped his head back, giving Harry more access. His arms now felt limp in Harry's hands, and his legs spread wider, allowing Harry to rub their hips together.

Harry circled his tongue just above where Severus' collarbone met his neck and then bit down purposefully hard, wanting to leave a mark. Severus pulled his arms free and he gripped Harry's head with both hands, twisting Harry’s hair in his fingers.

Harry pulled open the first two buttons of Severus' shirt, moving his tongue across every inch of exposed skin. Severus moaned and rolled his hips against Harry's. Harry could feel the hard needy press of Severus' cock against his own. Harry pushed Severus against a wall and snapped their hips together.

Harry grabbed the sides of Severus' shirt and pulled it up so he could wrap his bare hands around Severus' bare waist. He bent his knees slightly, thinking how good it would be if he could lift Severus just enough so he could fuck him right here against the wall. With their clothes still all on, and Severus heavier than he looked, it wasn't going to happen.

“Take off your trousers and bend over the sofa so I can fuck you,” Harry mumbled into Severus' neck.

“No,” Severus replied, gripping Harry's back hard. “In my bed. Want to feel you on top of me. All of you.”

Severus pulled Harry to the bedroom, kissing and touching at every opportunity as they impatiently tore off each others’ clothes. 

Severus tried to get on the bed but Harry wouldn't let go of him; taking one more kiss, one more touch of his hands on Severus' skin, one more roll of his hips, grinding their cocks together. Harry didn't want it to stop, not even for a second so they could get on the bed. Harry's cock ached and he wanted to fuck Severus wide open but he couldn't make himself stop long enough to get to that point.

Severus pushed Harry away with a dark look and lowered himself to the bed.

Harry impatiently climbed on after him. He crawled over Severus, taking in the flush of his skin, the way his pulse skipped and fluttered in his neck. Harry wanted to bring all their urgent, manic need to a grinding halt so he could appreciate Severus beneath him. Suck his fingers, place kisses between his thighs, slowly open his arse with nothing but his tongue. But, God, Harry couldn't stop now, it was all he could do not to push Severus' thighs apart and shove balls-deep into him with one thrust.

Severus' dark, brilliant gaze met Harry's. Harry saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and then he felt Severus' hand wrapping around his cock. His grip was firm but he stroked slowly. Harry's hips rolled into Severus' touch of their own volition. Harry moaned and dropped his head, letting Severus lead him wherever he wanted to go.

“Push in me,” Severus said in a hushed voice.

“What?” Harry said, lifting his head. “You're not -”

“Do. It.” Severus glared at Harry, and Harry's anger rose again.

He grabbed Severus' thighs and pushed them apart. Holding them wide, digging his fingers in, hoping that he would once again leave a mark. Severus canted his hips up, lining himself up with Harry.

Harry held his cock in one hand and pushed into Severus, not having stretched him one bit. His arse was slick but so fucking tight that Harry cried out only after the head of his cock entered Severus. He pulled back a tiny bit so he didn't pull out completely, then he thrust sharply, pushing in further the second time.

“Yes!” Severus cried out. Harry did it again and again until his balls were snugly pressed to Severus.

Harry passed his fingertips up Severus' balls and the back of his cock, appreciating its length and width. His mouth watered as he thought about how the weight of it felt against his tongue.

Severus reached up and took off Harry's glasses, and tossed them away carelessly. Harry hated not being able to see clearly, and Severus knew it. He was about to pull out and grab his glasses when Severus grabbed his arms, his fingers digging into the flesh. He lifted his legs and wrapped them around Harry's waist. He pulled on Harry's arms. “Want to feel you on me.”

Not in the mood to play nice, but also not wanting to deny Severus, Harry swiftly lowered himself to Severus' chest. Severus made a muffled 'mph' as Harry's weight fully hit him but it was quickly followed by a satisfied groan as Harry thrust his hips sharply.

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him firmly in place. Harry gripped Severus' shoulders, pushing Severus down onto his cock and thrusting at the same time. Harder and faster they fucked, Harry's face buried in the crook of Severus shoulder, their chests hot and slick with sweat. Harry could feel Severus' cock, slick and hard, trapped between them. He arched his back, pressing down to put more pressure on it. He thrust quickly, his balls slapping Severus' arse.

He felt Severus' nails dig into his back and Severus arched and moaned. He felt Severus come, hot and sticky between them. His arse squeezed and pulled on Harry's cock, urging it to come. Harry stilled and cried out as he emptied himself completely.

They fell asleep that way, Harry still pressed to Severus' body. Some time later Harry woke up and gingerly rolled off. He stole out of bed, and out of the flat, as swiftly and silently as he could. He did not want Severus to wake before he could leave.

~*~*~

“Have you seen this, sir?” 

Harry looked up from the report he was writing, took the proffered paper and said, “You can wipe that smile of your face, Weasley, and stop calling me 'sir'. It makes me itch.”

“Sorry, about that, sir,” Ron said with the same stupid smirk.

Harry unfolded the Muggle paper, read the headline that he was sure Ron had meant for him to see and then threw it aside. He went back to writing his report; he was due in a meeting in ten minutes. “I heard about it last night.” Harry didn't look up when he spoke, he didn't want to look at Ron when they were both thinking about Severus.

“Oh, right. The privileges of rank. You're extra important now, know all the good secrets before the rest of us,” Ron said lightly.

Harry looked up and smiled. “Most of the secrets are quite boring, you know?”

“No, I don't. You never tell me anything.”

“The Minister is the only one that can approve our budget. Not the MLE budget, the Auror budget. He has full discretion,” Harry said.

“That's it? That's the best you have for me? Boring budget shit? If I wanted that I could have asked Hermione.” Harry shrugged apologetically and smiled. Ron stood and stretched. “Work on finding better secrets to share with me. I'll even buy you a drink before so you can blame it on the alcohol.”

“They gave me this job because they hope I'm a bit more responsible than that,” Harry said dryly.

“What good is it having the Head Auror for a best friend if he ends up this boring?” Ron replied.

“Preference of assignment? I could have you investigating the illegal Dragon Manure trade,” Harry said and smiled as Ron winced dramatically.

“Good point. Dinner later? Kids are with Mum and Dad.”

“Sure. We can leave early. Another perk of being in charge.”

Ron smiled momentarily and then made a pained sort of expression, one that Harry knew meant Ron was keeping something from him. “What?” Harry said with a bit of exasperation.

“He's here today, you know?” Ron said in a rush.

“No, I don't know,” Harry said, feeling a sudden thrum of excitement running through him. It was quickly replaced by having his insides feel as if they had all vanished.

“I was in the loo and he walked in. Almost pissed on my trousers,” Ron said. “He looked at me and said 'Eyes forward, Weasley.' I suppose he does come here from time to time. He does work for us. Has to keep up appearances.”

“Right,” Harry said. He hadn't ever considered that Severus had been regularly visiting the Ministry all this time and he had never seen him. It hurt to think Severus had avoided him for years.

“Better go work then,” Ron said, then nodded and left.

Harry watched the door, making sure no one else was going to come in. He slowly reached for the paper he had laid on his desk. It was the middle section of a Muggle paper, practically a throwaway, but there it was in bold black and white: “ **Mid-Level British Embassy Employee Found Dead.** ” Harry knew what the rest of the article would say. The death would be blamed on a gas leak. Harry didn't know if it was an actual gas leak or if that was the cover-up. But if anyone could contain a gas leak to one flat in a 300-unit building it was Severus. Not that Harry knew it was him for sure – more of a feeling.

He had only received the report last night from the Minister that one of their men within the Muggle government would be disposing of a serious problem. The accountant had ties to the Russian Mafia and wasn't very good at keeping it quiet. He likely would have ended up dead anyway, but the government couldn't wait for someone else to act first. A gas leak didn't raise questions; two shots to the back of the head did.

Severus was very good at his job, Harry couldn't deny that. He had wondered a lot the past few months about why Severus had to do that job. About a month ago he'd gone out on a fairly dangerous mission with three other Aurors. Ron had asked Harry if he was sure it was a good idea. “You're Head Auror, mate.” Harry had replied by saying yes, he was and that meant he was still an Auror and one that was good at his job. Harry couldn't sit and do nothing just because his title had changed. That's when it had hit Harry. He no longer thought 'why Severus' but instead 'why not Severus'.

Harry lightly touched the article, as if the ink and paper contained some bit of Severus and this was the only contact they would have from now on. But the story was about an act alone; it wasn't who Severus was. Harry put the paper in the rubbish bin and went back to work.

***

Harry knew that officially Severus worked for The Department of Muggle Relations. This department was the standard boring, paper-pushing sort, except for the liaisons to the Muggle government. There weren't that many but they had the interesting task of being moles inside another government. As far as Harry knew Severus was the only one who was more than a mole. This meant Severus, who had Ministry consent to not only use magic on Muggles but to kill with it, actually reported to someone else.

Harry knew it wasn't himself that Severus reported to, though the Hit Wizards did fall under his jurisdiction. But Hit Wizards were for other magical people. Harry was willing to wager, though, that Severus' actual boss wasn't too far away.

It had to be Spencer Crocket, head of the entire MLE. Crocket was a short, shrewd, but quiet man—the kind of man you knew thought a lot more and said even less. He was brilliant at his job. Hermione, who worked for him, idolized him.

Harry had meetings to attend, Aurors to bark orders at, and several owls waiting for replies but it wouldn't hurt to take a walk over to Crocket's offices.

Stomach tight with nerves, Harry took five times as long as normal to get over to the MLE offices. He took several weaving routes and was about to go back to his desk when he decided it wouldn't hurt to go check up on Hermione. They worked on the same level but he hardly ever saw her during the day.

Harry held his breath and pushed open the door. He looked around and saw everything was as it always was. Secretaries scribbling away, or dictating to quills. Some offices with doors firmly shut, others, like Hermione's, had the doors wide-open. Hermione thought it made you more approachable if the door was always open. You only needed to interrupt her once to find out that for Hermione, an open door wasn't actually welcoming.

Harry leaned in her doorway and knocked on it; he wasn't cowed by her glares or snarls. She looked up, sighed, and went back to her mountain of parchment. “He's not here,” she said. “Now leave me alone.”

“I can see he's not here. I came by to see you,” Harry replied.

Hermione snorted but waved her hand at the chairs in front of her desk. Harry had to move a stack of files from one so he could sit down.

“What makes you think I'm looking for someone?” Harry asked in a casual tone.

“Saw Ron this morning. He was as white as a sheet, said Professor Snape scared him in the loo. I know he told you, and I know it didn't take you long to figure out who he works for.”

“Did you know he reported to Crocket?”

Hermione dropped her quill, folded her hands together and looked at Harry with raised brows. Her hair coming out of her bun in wisps gave her a halo from the light coming from the window behind her. Halo or not, her expression showed Harry that he was on dangerous ground with her.

“What?” Harry said.

“You know I can't tell you what I know,” Hermione hissed, gaze flicking to the open door.

“Please.” Harry scoffed. “My security clearance is higher than yours. You can tell me what you know.”

Hermione huffed and then said, “Don't you think if I knew what he was, I would have stopped you years ago from investigating him?”

“You tell me. You're the one who just glared at me just because I asked you.”

“I didn't know until you told me and I'm still not supposed to know. All right?”

Harry shrugged and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. Now Hermione smirked at him.

“What now?”

“You going to sit there and wait for him to walk by? Is that your plan?” She said with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“I'm visiting my friend,” Harry replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “You want to see Professor Snape for some reason and you think hanging around here is the way to find him. If you wanted to see him so badly, then why didn't you go see him before?”

“Because I didn't know he wanted to see me,” Harry replied.

“How do you know he wants to see you?” Hermione leaned her head on her hand and for the first time looked genuinely kind. She wanted the best for Harry, he knew that.

“He ran into Ron in the loo. That was no accident. He knew Ron would tell me.”

“Honestly?” Hermione said, wrinkling her brow.

“I understand him. I'm sure that's what it was,” Harry said as he stood. He suddenly knew where Severus was.

“Where are you going now?”

“To the Muggle Relations offices. Last place I'd expect him to be. Well, other than my office, that is.”

Harry, too impatient to deal with the lifts, dashed for the stairs. He ran up to level three, not slowing his pace one bit. He burst through the stairway door and continued swiftly down a corridor. He was trying to remember exactly where the offices were and which would be Severus'.

Aurors were required to know the entire Ministry inside out, for security reasons, but he was so giddy he couldn't think straight.

He went down another corridor, thinking that it was the right way. He was thinking about turning back when a door opened behind him. He heard the muttering of voices and the shuffling of parchment and chairs being moved, the sounds of a meeting ended. He looked over his shoulder and at that moment Severus walked out of the room.

He stopped dead when he saw Harry. Harry turned swiftly to face him. Severus looked at him flatly, mouth slightly turned down, as if to say, “Where have you been?” Harry half-smiled and shrugged one shoulder.

“Auror Potter,” Severus inclined his head. “Would you mind coming with me to my office? I am in need of your assistance.”

Not waiting for an answer, Severus walked towards Harry. Harry fell in next to him and they walked down the corridor, and turned down two more before they arrived at Severus' door.

He opened the door and ushered Harry inside.

Harry looked around the office. It looked so clean as if to be unused, which it mostly was. Harry would have to point out that for security reasons they should at least make an attempt to have it looking like Severus actually worked here.

“Why are you making that face?” Severus said and then closed the door.

“I am wondering what it says on the Ministry of Magic Map that this room is. I'm fairly certain it's marked as a dead file room. Not a broom cupboard, that would be too obvious because the actual broom cupboard is a few doors down.”

“Why is this important? I don't care what they label my office as. I never use it, as you well know.”

Harry grinned; he loved thinking of something Severus hadn't. “If anyone bothered to check then they would know something wasn't right. They might dig further. Could raise problems for you.”

“As you are the most tenacious person under the Ministry employ I doubt anyone would bother with it but you, and you already know. Perhaps Ms. Granger.” Severus gave Harry a small smile.

“Right. Still better have it relabelled.” Harry wasn't going to give up his point, not for a second.

Severus sighed and went to a chair to sit down, and gestured for Harry to do the same. They sat, next to each other, in silence.

Eventually, and without looking at him, Severus said, “You left me.”

“I know.”

“Why? Is it because I left before?”

“No.” Harry was surprised. He looked at Severus, who was looking at him with a very solemn face. “It wasn't some sort of revenge. I had to leave. I needed to sort it all out.” Severus nodded and Harry continued, “I came there to arrest you-”

“Yes, I recall,” Severus said. “You were quite a sight in your uniform. It...wrong-footed me for a moment.”

Harry grinned and said, “It didn't show.”

“I believe I showed you soon after how I felt about it.” Severus' eyes glittered and he kept his gaze on Harry as he took out his wand and Summoned a bottle and two glasses. Harry looked at the scotch and gave Severus a wry grin. His office had the essentials, at least.

Severus poured two glasses, and handed one to Harry. Their fingers touched as the glass passed between them. Severus said, “You're here now, what's changed?”

“Everything.” Severus arched a brow and Harry hurried to follow that up. “Not everything. The way I see it, though. If you didn't want to do what you do, your...job, then you wouldn't have to do it anymore.”

“Harry,” Severus said, looking somewhat disappointed. “If you came to get me to leave my job and talk me out of it, then you -”

“No. I didn't come to do that. That's not what I meant. I meant it was your choice. You are choosing to do something you're quite good at, not because you have to but because you can.”

“I'm complimented. You think I'm good at my job,” Severus said and then took a sip of his drink.

“Don't act falsely modest. You know you're good at it.” Severus's lips twitched and Harry shook his head. “I'm well acquainted with your work. Every death is perfectly clean. Well, except the bloke in his office.”

“Bloody bastard was supposed to trip and impale himself on a well placed letter opener. He had to be drunk and hit his head as well.” Severus shrugged.

“Is that pity I hear in your voice?” Harry said, meaning for it to sound like he was teasing, but the look he got from Severus was very serious.

“It's not my job to feel any emotion for them. I can't.”

“I know,” Harry said as he leaned over and gripped Severus' knee. “I understand.”

Severus blinked at Harry and then put his hand on top of Harry's. He still looked serious, though, as if everything wasn't right.

“What's wrong?” Harry said quietly.

Severus looked down and said almost inaudibly, “I'm hesitant...”

“Hesitant? Why? You're scared? You're not scared,” Harry said. He thought if any man lived without fear it could be Severus.

“No, I'm dead frightened,” Severus said looking up at Harry and trying to look less serious.

“What can you possibly be afraid of?”

“You left me.”

“I'm here now,” Harry said.

“You were there then, and you left when you didn't like the truth,” Severus replied.

“Are you going to make a habit of lying to me?” Harry asked.

“I'm far from good, Harry, but I've never, not once, wanted to lie to you.”

“See. It's all fine. I needed some time.” Harry scooted to the edge of his chair and moved so his knees were brushing Severus'. “I'm sorry.”

Severus looked at Harry and gave a quick nod. “I suppose since you wouldn't ask me to leave my job it wouldn't be right to ask you to leave yours so you can follow me around.”

Harry shook his head. “Maybe if there was a reason to be in England more often, you would be.”

“That's a very good point, Potter,” Severus said.

“It would keep up your cover better.”

“This line of incredible thinking must be why you ascended to Head Auror so quickly. Perhaps you should stay here the rest of the day and regale me with all your brilliant ideas.” Severus pointed his wand at the door and the lock clicked and it glowed bright as it sealed.

Harry stood and crawled onto Severus, straddling his lap. “I'm more of a doer, not a talker,” Harry said.

“By all means,” Severus said and pulled Harry down for a kiss.


End file.
